


Trance

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: Angst, Crying, Drama, Drugs, Gen, Hospitals, In a trance, Major Character Injury, Panic Attack, Post-Surgery, Uncertainty, references to alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 16:38:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: Rick Allen's thoughts slipping in and out of consciousness following his emergency surgery after his car accident and his feelings on the state between him and his bandmates.





	Trance

**Author's Note:**

> Warning -nothing incredibly graphic, but some vivid descriptions of internal panic may be unsettling to some. Those who are easily triggered into anxiety attacks, read with caution.

I'm waking up -only partially, I'm still too out of it to really understand what I'm seeing or hearing -and I'm not sure what's around me, but I know I'm in a hospital.

The faint beeping of a machine. Multiple machines, actually -with different pitches and tones of beeps unique to them. The white walls. The strong smell of disinfectant. Cold air. I feel something in the back of my right wrist. A needle in my arm giving me fluids.

Somebody -sounds like a man -keeps snuffling every few seconds like he's been crying for a good long while and finally got himself stopped.

I'm tracing my steps back in my mind. How did I get here? Prior to this, there was darkness. Then I was in some weird state in my mind.

Why does my left side feel numb?

I try to tilt my head and feel thick bandages up past my shoulder.

My mind backs up to the field.

_Wait... Bloody hell -I didn't even think I was going to make it away from there alive._

Now I remember. The car. The flipping, turning, jostling about. The blinding, fire-like pain. Wondering where the hell my arm had gone. The woman coming out trying to help me, then seeing my detached arm sticking out under a seat in the flipped car.

Asking for my mum. Nice one, Rick. Though I still want to see her here now, honestly. That would be nice. She probably was here already and will be back later. Who knows how long I've been out...

Wanting to go home. I still want to go home too. I guess that's not going to happen any time soon, so I can keep dreaming about that for now.

I'm drifting in my thoughts, sparing into space across the blurred room, when a choking noise slowly starts to reach my ears.

Whoever had been crying has started back up again. Not sure if he saw my eyes open up and that triggered him, or if he was going to break again anyway. I can't see who it is -my eyes are open and I can see the world around me, but my vision is too hazy for me to make anything out aside from smears of color forming the general shape of items and people in the room.

"Just calm down, mate. Please."

Well, that's Sav. I recognize his voice. It's pretty clear, but there's a strain to it that sounds like he's pretty emotional too and trying to hold himself together.

I hear my older brother talking too.

"Phil just called from downstairs. He says Steve's a bit worse than we initially thought, and he's taking him home for a few hours to sleep it off. He'll be back though when Steve is sober enough."

The crying seems to back off for a bit, replaced with frantic, dry gasping. Hyperventilation in sheer rage.

"That s-sodden, bloody b-bastard, I-"

Joe. Now I know who it is. His sentence stops abruptly and he dissolves into hard, heaving sobs again, barely coherent in his speech. His breathing keeps coming in sharp, stuttered gasps, breaking off his syllables into desperate, choppy things.

"I -I know he -he c-can't deal with th-this shit, b-but damn it, S-Sav! It's n-not b-blood-y fair! He should be h-here for Rick! Not pissed out of his fucking mind!"

Toward the end he's practically shouting to force out his words, before going back into wordless, frantic crying again. I see a hazy figure -Sav -pulling his chair toward the other side of the room where I can't see. Then I hear Joe's crying muffle out.

"We're in a hospital, mate," Sav sighs. "You need to keep it down."

My vision is getting dark again, like I'm fading in and out. I hear the beeping of machines quickening. My head is spinning. 

"I h-had a fight with him over the most st-stupid thing the last time we were together," Joe chokes out.

We had a fight over getting back to the studio. I was annoyed and frustrated with the band scene. I can't believe I was that upset. I was the one being stupid. I was about ready to consider quitting, and knowing the uncertain state of my arm, the fear that I might not be able to play the same after this terrifies me. I don't ever want to give up those drums. What was I ever thinking saying I was considering it?

"Joe, he was tired. We all were," rationalizes Sav. "We got off tour, went straight into the studio, and we were working non-stop. That's how it goes, but it is heavy and not everyone can take that all at once. He probably didn't mean it as strongly as he said it."

"Y'heard 'im, Sav," Joe chokes out. Now he's slurring his words too -probably exhausting himself. "He h-hates me!"

I did say that. Oh, bollocks, I said that. I didn't mean it. No, Joe, I don't hate you at all. Hell, I'm sorry. Will I even get out of this trance-state so that I can tell you that?

"...and now he's only half-there, Sav," Joe barely whispers. "They keep saying he's still unstable. What if he doesn't make it?"

The hazy scene seems to spin into a spiral. The sounds are blurring together into chaos. I hear nurses running in and giving orders. People poking at my IVs. At my arm. It only feels half-sensitive -like a deadweight, and each poke or touch to it sends a burning pins and needles sensation up to my shoulder.

I hear something like a moan. I think it came from me.

"His heart rate is up. He's stressed out."

At this, I hear Joe's crying increase in the muddle of noises.

Please stop crying, Joe. _Please_. I can't bear it.

The beeping is getting faster. I feel something push against my face. They're putting something over my mouth and nose to relax my breathing in hopes my heart rate will settle. I think I heard the word "gas". They're trying to knock me out again to settle me.

The noises seem to stretch out, slower and deeper, and the blurs of motion in the room slow down too. Everything in slow motion. My whole body feels numb now -almost vibrating.

"He's running a fever too -we need to get more antibiotics in him. His electrolytes are off again -he may need another blood transfusion..."

"Mr. Elliott, we're going to have to ask you to leave and have Mr. Savage take you home if you can't quiet down.

"His heart rate is still rising."

My chest hurts. I moan again, and my voice echoes as if somebody recorded it on ten tracks and set them all going, half a second after each other.

_Please, Lord, make it stop._

"Joe, let's go for a walk. I don't care if you want to go outside, or only as far as the toilet down the hall, but you need to get out of the room. Too much at once." Sav taking charge. 

"Now it's dropping. Okay, that's good." 

My vision goes dark. The noise fades. I'm slipping from my semi-conscious state back into the trance of inside my mind. 

Silence. Blessed silence. 

But if that's just a glance, I'm scared to death at what's going to happen when I fully wake up. Still, I'm anxious for it. Upset that I've been sedated and it's been delayed. 

There's nowhere else to go. Unless I die. I don't want to die. 

I want to wake up. Get out of this trance. 

I want to live. 

I want to play drums, however that's going to happen. 

Somebody, just get me there already. 


End file.
